Iro Oni
by LoveAnimeForever
Summary: COMPLETE - AU - Shunsui x Coyote, Shunsui x Juushirou - "Yamazaki eighteen-year whisky mizuwari, please. On the rocks." And that was how Shunsui found himself having an affair with Coyote Starrk. But at what cost? More similar... Than I thought, too.
1. Chapter 01: Grey Wolves

**Iro Oni[1]**

_Chapter One: Grey Wolves_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

Shunsui and Juushirou had precious little time together at night, what with Shunsui having to tend to Katen Kyoukoukotsu from seven in the evening till one in the morning every day. To make up for it, while Juushirou was at his flower shop during the day, Shunsui would tag along and nap there. Dinner was had between their jobs, in the five-to-seven dusk window when they were both free. And since Sougyou No Kotowari opened at eleven, it left them the dawn hours to enjoy each other's company.

They weren't married – it was illegal – but it felt like it. Life was comfortable, content; neither could have asked for more.

* * *

Midnight. Juushirou was resting at home, which meant Shunsui was tending his bar. (Sometimes his white-haired partner would join him, but not tonight.) Katen Kyoukotsu wasn't a modern bar, wIth pounding music and sleazy customers; his clientele was more conservative, of the class that appreciated mahogany tables and plush chairs under warm light. The cash was good, and the nature of the business made it naturally slow. Just how Shunsui liked it.

A man stepped in – a new face. He was wearing a navy hooded jacket – hood down – over a casual white button-up shirt; long black pants and black Venetian loafers of the same color, but polished to a shine. The man's hair was brown, ending just at his shoulders, and as he came up to the counter, Shunsui could see his blue-steel eyes. All in all a very respectable-looking customer, and – the bartender had to admit – quite handsome. He slid himself into a seat and ordered with surprising decisiveness and detail, even without the menu.

He actually sounded bored. "Yamazaki eighteen-year whisky mizuwari, please. On the rocks."

"You know your liquor, don't you?" Shunsui offered shortly, along with the drink.

"Yeah, I should. I keep Los Lobos across town, after all."

Los Lobos, the most popular place among those who preferred a more… upbeat party. Shunsui had never been there himself, but he'd heard – many times – that there was always a queue at the entrance, weekday _or_ weekend. Well, this was Katen Kyoukotsu, and Shunsui liked her quiet prestige. It wasn't his job to pry into his customers' affairs. He was just a listening ear when alcohol wouldn't do the job. He watched the man take his drink, slowly, deliberately.

"Join me?" he asked, after a few sips and a period of contemplative taking-in of his surroundings.

Shunsui shook his head, "As much as I'd like to…"

"No drinking on the job?" the man asked, light dancing playfully in his grey-tint eyes. He vaulted neatly over the counter (thank goodness all the other customers were at their booths) and landed gracefully just beside Shunsui. He grinned. "Hope you don't mind."

"It's a little late to _mind_, don't you think?" the other was more amused than displeased, and stepped to the side to let his customer – his fellow bartender – look through the house's liquors.

Said man gave the display behind the bar a once-over, picking up a bottle here and there to examine.

He spoke, almost absently, eyes not even lifting from their inspection of a bottle of Johnnie Walker's Blue Label. "By the way, my name's Coyote Starrk."

"Kyouraku Shunsui," Katen Kyoukotsu's owner replied.

Coyote replaced the bottle in its cradle and turned his gaze on Shunsui. He seemed to inspect him like a bottle of a rare liquor, taking in everything he could lay his eyes on. Brown, wavy hair, tied back in a ponytail; ash-gray eyes. He was in uniform, a neatly pressed white long-sleeve shirt with cuffs under a silky-looking black vest, with a maroon cravat around his neck to suit the elegant renaissance atmosphere of his bar. Eyes travelling downward, Coyote took in the man's black pants and shoes – not very different from his own – then returned his gaze to his eyes. _He looks like me._ Shunsui had had the same thought on his first survey of his customer, but now that their eyes met, it almost seemed as if there was something _more_.

A voice called for Shunsui, and both men averted their eyes from each others'. The one turned towards the sound of the voice, and the other returned to searching for a particular something.

"Nanao-chan! You're, um, early?"

The lady, rather petite and dressed in a uniform similar to Shunsui's, adjusted her glasses and replied in a brisk tone, "I always am, Kyouraku," she paused, watching the strangely familiar form behind him, ascertaining she wasn't seeing double. "And who is this?"

Coyote turned, "Coyote Starrk, at your service... Let's see, Nanao-san?"

She was rather taken aback by his charming manners, and that he'd been paying enough attention to catch her name; even Shunsui was surprised. He hadn't thought the man's voice capable of anything but boredom. His normally stoic Nanao-chan blushed slightly in response, bowing stiffly to cover up for it.

"It's very nice to meet you. Are you one of Kyouraku's friends?"

"I will be, soon, if I can find what I'm looking for…" and Coyote turned back to the bottles on the shelves.

Nanao raised an eyebrow, Shunsui blinked. And then, both of them questioned in unison, "Looking for?"

"Ah," Shunsui opened a cupboard under the counter, revealing a mini-fridge – separate from the larger one for his customers – and pulled out a tray of sake and sake dishes. "How'd you know?"

Coyote smiled mysteriously and made to vault over the bar again; Shunsui stopped him with a hand to the wrist he'd place on the countertop for leverage and gestured to the waist-height swing door at the end of the counter. The man's expression was briefly apologetic as he followed Shunsui around the bar and they sat themselves on the stools on its other side. Nanao took her place as bartender, bewildered at their silent communication that seemed too easy to have been between strangers. They both shrugged at her, in sync, and turned to their drinks.

"So, how'd you know?" Shunsui repeated his question as he poured some sake for himself.

"Know what?"

Too laidback to be properly exasperated at his – apparent – drinking buddy, "That I had a secret stash of my own sake somewhere."

"As a bartender, do you really need to ask me that, Shunsui?"

The man had decided to punch straight through at least three layers of formality and called him by his first name. Shunsui was both surprised and pleased; he preferred people to refer to him as freely as possible, after all. Only Nanao and his newest customers called him "Kyouraku" or "Kyouraku-san"; the latter from unfamiliarity and the former from sheer, infuriating determination to be formal. Of course, not all customers were the same, as Coyote had proved tonight.

"Fine, then. Nanao-chan, could you get _Coyote_ another mizuwari? Yamazaki eighteen, on the rocks, ne. His looks too warm by now."

Coyote didn't seem as used to being addressed to casually, but took it in his stride, along with the new mizuwari that Nanao presented him. And although he hadn't really minded his previous one, he passed it to her to clear.

* * *

The pair subsided into a companionable silence, with occasional scraps of conversation that was conducted half-internally, as if each were talking with themselves. Coyote's eyes followed Nanao, watching her tend the bar in such an efficient manner it made him wonder that she was actually human. Of course, he'd met his fair share of business-like bartenders; some customers preferred the formality to the familiarity that was obviously Shunsui's strong point. All the same, compared to the lime-haired firecracker that was _his_ apprentice…

"Your apprentice seems so much more docile than my Lilynette," he commented, sipping the amber liquid and letting it slowly burn down his throat. It was his, what, third, by now?

Shunsui tilted his head back and downed his dish of sake in one mouth. "Hm? Oh Nanao-chan's too good to be an apprentice. She studies at the university by day and works here by night." Shunsui glanced over at the girl, but she was tending to customers – safe. He didn't know if she would appreciate him sharing her life story with a stranger. "Your Lilynette?"

Coyote chuckled. "No, I don't lean that way."

It was a rather… different… way of using the phrase.

"Sure, I don't care," Shunsui returned, laughing along with his companion. "You're avoiding the question, though."

A quick roll of his eyes, but in amusement, than annoyance. "Apprentice of sorts. Hence my assumption. Anyway, what about you?"

The man turned to face him, and there was that _something_ again. A glint? The utter _same-ness_ that they shared, the everything that was so similar between them, on the outside as well as on the _in_side. The penchant for alcohol, the clothes that would've been much more rumpled if they'd had their own way, the same lazy gray eyes that held hidden warmth. It was like looking in a mirror. Albeit a fogged mirror, glass misted over from the steam of a hot shower. And Shunsui finally realized what it was his customer – fellow bartender – friend? more? – was asking. _Ah, Juu, forgive me…_

"I – am free tonight."

"Wonderful," Coyote murmured, and reached for his wallet.

Shunsui stopped him again, this time with a hand to the other's knee. Considering what he'd just agreed to, he figured it was appropriate.

"On the house," he explained, his smile slightly crooked – the only sign of the alcohol's effects on him.

"A pleasant surprise," Coyote returned, getting up and leading Shunsui along with him. "Shall we go?"

Nanao watched them disappear out the heavy wooden door, walking surprisingly steadily despite the amount of liquor they'd consumed; it was the first time Shunsui had left with a customer, but it wasn't her place to pry, so she let it be. A fleeting thought for Juushirou-san who'd come by quite a few times, and then she pushed it from her mind and didn't give it a second thought.

* * *

The pair caught a cab outside Katen, because apparently Coyote's apartment was all the way across town. They passed Los Lobos on the way, and despite the time – forsaken two-a.m. in the morning – the throng Shunsui had heard of was there, though perhaps more subdued _because_ of the time. They continued watching the city's night skyline out the windows of the taxi, the cloying smell of alcohol building up in the heavy yet companionable silence between them. Eventually, Coyote spoke.

"You've got someone waiting at home, don't you?"

There was no uncertainty in his voice, only nonchalant curiosity. The man was sure of himself, or it at least seemed so. Shunsui read him, with that hypnotic telepathy that had enticed him in the first place. _Why are you here?_ Two could play at that game; he watched the streetlights by, leaving incandescent yellow-orange streaks.

"And you? Your Lilynette?"

A moment of silence, then the two turned to face each other and their eyes met.

_More similar…_

"Than I thought, too," Shunsui finished Coyote's thought, smirking.

The other raised a skeptical eyebrow, but ended up shrugging nonchalantly anyway.

* * *

"Pardon the mess," Coyote offered, though it sounded more like an offhand comment than an apology.

He stood aside to let his companion in, then closed the door behind him.

Shunsui shrugged, "Mine is in a neater state only thanks to-"

He cut himself off and shook his head. Now was not the time to think of Juushirou.

"No, tonight you belong to me," Coyote breathed against Shunsui's ear, arms snaking around his waist.

* * *

It was six in the morning, with the darkest shades of red fading into the still-black sky. Shunsui blinked himself awake, consciousness slowly bleeding into the warmth that he was wrapped around. It took a while to process that the body he held wasn't the fragile, delicately thin body he was used to, and that there was no silk-smooth angel's hair to nuzzle. _Shit_. Shunsui stiffened as his memories returned to him, along with a light pounding in his head – not bad enough for him to classify as a hangover, but definitely the aftereffects of the sake last night.

He sat up, but the body didn't pull him back down, as he'd expected it would. He blinked down at what could've passed off as his twin.

"Good morning, Shunsui," the other greeted lazily, stretching languidly. "And what has prompted you to wake at such an ungodly hour for bartenders?"

Shunsui shook his head, got up and dressed. Coyote didn't stop him. Did he want to? Did _Shunsui_ want him to? The guilt weighed him down; weighed him down like chains and water. The easy-going man had never felt so _heavy_ in his life.

To add to it all, Coyote seemed to have read his mind. _Again._

"Ah. I see. Well, I won't stop you, since I wouldn't like to be stopped when I've someone waiting for me… Or have we finally found something that makes us different?"

_This man has no sense of guilt,_ Shunsui thought, but there was no accusation in it. "No, I need to get back, like you said."

"You're thinking I'm some sort of uncaring bastard for rubbing it in your face, aren't you," Coyote asked Shunsui's back, as it was covered by the white shirt he'd had the pleasure of tearing off last night. Miraculously, it was still in one piece _and_ unrumpled.

He was met by silence, and the black vest.

"I suppose you're right. I'd be the type to have affairs everywhere, and not care for my boyfriend-"

Shunsui turned around as he tied his cravat, the first frown Coyote had seen of him on his lips. Slightly angry, but not at him – at himself? Contemplative, honestly _sad_. It morphed into a carefree smile too quickly.

"No, I know myself better than that. If you had someone, Starrk, I'm sure you'd be the most loyal, most devoted, lover any guy would be lucky enough to get."

Coyote was startled by the sudden use of his last name. This man… He didn't want to let go of this connection just yet. He'd promised not to ask for any more, but there was _something_ about Shunsui… Fully dressed, the man had tied his hair and was headed for the bedroom door. Coyote sighed. This was _so_ unlike him.

He got up, threw of a pair of pants – underwear could wait – and followed Shunsui, grabbing a small steel figure from his desk on the way.

"Shunsui, wait," Coyote did his best to keep his voice level, bored – as usual.

Shunsui paused and turned obligingly, an eyebrow raised. "You said you wouldn't hold me?"

The brown hair, the slate eyes. _His? Mine?_ "It's only a momentary delay" – he couldn't help but slip between Shunsui's arms again – "take this, and welcome to Los Lobos at anytime."

He dropped the steel into Shunsui's tentatively opened palm. It was a flat-backed wolf's head turned to the side, with a shaggy mane of fur around it and ending at a point. It was inlaid a black one, from the wolf's lower jaw to the lower part of the mane.

"I… don't understand…?" he blinked confusedly at the figure.

"_Primera_," Coyote explained, pulling away from the warm back. "Show the bouncers that and they'll let you in immediately."

Shunsui pocketed it, surprisingly happy with the present. Content, even. "Thank you, Starrk."

And he stepped out the front door, and Coyote held it open for him. He found himself talking to the man's back again, that back that was so similar to his.

"…Please, call me Coyote."

Shunsui paused and turned, like he usually never did, and like he'd done so many times in the past twenty-four hours.

"I'll see you around, Coyote."

And he left, into the lightening day; sky, now pink and orange, like the flowers in Juushirou's shop.

* * *

Notes:  
[1] Iro Oni - A Japanese children's game, somewhat akin to tag. Whoever "it" - the "demon, hence the game's name "color demon" - is calls out a color, and players touching an object of that color become "safe". If all players are "safe", another color is called. If a player is caught before he gets to a "safe" place, he becomes "it", or the "demon".  
More importantly, it Iro-Oni is also the name of a part of Katen Kyoukotsu's shikai. Shunsui and his opponent take turns to call out a color, and may only cut that color until the next is called. The greater the amount of the color on the caller's body, the more damage he will deal to his opponent, and the more damage he will take if his opponent lands a hit on him.


	2. Chapter 02: Red Blood

**Iro Oni**

_Chapter Two: Red Blood_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

Juushirou woke with a start. Rather, he woke with a cough. It was violent, and after sitting up, he spent more than a few minutes trying to master himself, hand covering his mouth in what he knew was a futile effort to help. _Deep breaths._ As an Ikebana master, he knew enough of calm to know when he would get it – now was not a time the clean lines of his flowers would soothe his body. Eventually the fit subsided, and he pulled his hand away from his lips, sticky and hot in blood. He barely had time to register his horror before the coughing started again, and this time he could feel the blood forcing its way to his mouth, tearing through his throat and who knew what else. _It hurts… Shunsui, help me…_

"…Shun…s-ui…"

There were no comforting hands on his shoulder, no soothing breath in his ear whispering, _it's alright, Juu, I'm here, I'm here._ Juushirou didn't know why he expected it; he'd known, since the moment his eyes opened so suddenly, that his partner's half of the bed was empty, unoccupied. Was it still still so early? The coughing intensified; the white-haired man felt like he was hacking his lungs out; Shunsui was nowhere around, and that just made things all the worse for him.

Darkness closed in agonizingly slow, fading in from the edges of his vision that was already blurred with tears of pain. He couldn't breathe – there wasn't enough time between the blood-letting coughs. As Juushirou fell back, weak, onto the bed, he caught sight of the clock on the bedside nightstand, beside a small Ikebana he'd done for their bedroom. _Five o'clock in the morning…_

_Shun, where are you?

* * *

_

Across town, Coyote, naked and still half-tangled in his silk sheets – the only thing he bothered spending on – watched his lover dress. It was quite endearing, seeing the usually laidback man rush for time, scrambling across the room for clothes discarded the night before. It was Saturday morning, else Shunsui wouldn't be here (although he usually left much earlier); only on Friday nights did he have the extra two hours that his boyfriend _thought_ was spent tending to Katen Kyoukotsu's end-of-workweek crowd. Instead, Nanao – who usually shared the one-a.m. to three-a.m. slot with Shunsui – had obligingly taken the job over for herself. Coyote didn't know her motives, and frankly didn't care. She didn't seem particularly malicious, after all. If he was worried about anything, it was about Lilynette barging in on them, but she seemed to have learnt something of tact lately. Thankfully.

"Why didn't you wake me up, Coyote?"

It sounded more like whining than a reprimand; Los Lobos' owner only smirked in return. "Would anyone chase such a warm body away when it's so cold out?"

Shunsui tripped over what must have been an article of Coyote's clothing.

"Juu's probably awake and worried sick about me," he explained, as close to exasperation as he could get while it was still so early in the morning.

Coyote raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure it's not 'Juu's probably wondering where the hell I am'?"

Again the white shirt, again the black vest, and again Shunsui heading for the door. Coyote picked up the towel Shunsui had tripped on earlier – last night had involved a _very_ nice shower – slung it around his waist and followed his lover of three months.

"He's not the type. Heck, even if he _saw_ me with you, he wouldn't say a thing," Shunsui's voice was _dripping_ in guilt. "That's the kind of person he is."

It had become something of a routine by now; Shunsui would come to Los Lobos, and they'd have two hours – it never seemed enough. Two hours, and then Coyote's Primera – as he'd come to think of Shunsui – would be unable to keep the pain of betraying his partner at bay and return home with his eyes slightly more downcast than usual. Over the week, it would subside, and his _need_ for Coyote – it _was_ a need – would send him back to the man's club again. They usually never overstepped the time limit, however short it was. Today… He'd betrayed Juushirou more than he already was, more than he had come to consider as "need". It hurt.

Coyote shrugged."Sounds too good to be true."

"Yeah, I know. He's an angel, after all…" they were at the front door, and then Shunsui was gone again.

* * *

The cab ride was too slow, simply too slow. Shunsui didn't urge the driver to go faster because some masochistic part of him had decided that this torture, of simply _imagining_ how much pain he was putting Juushirou through and feeling his heart wrench in resonance, was part of the punishment he deserved. The still-half-drunk part of him also absently decided that _faster_ and _harder_ were words reserved for Coyote to use, anyway.

* * *

When he _did_ reach the apartment he and Juushirou shared, the sky was already tinted blue, dark and mellow a blue as it was. He unlocked their front door, stepped in, re-locked the door, and headed straight for the bedroom, in a vague reverse of what had just happened at Coyote's apartment. The door was closed but unlocked; he opened it as gently as possible, hoping Juushirou was still asleep, still oblivious to his absence –

_JUU!_

His _angel_… Shunsui strode quickly to the bed, sat on its edge against the headboard, and pulled the man's deadweight body – still too light, like his body was made of feathers – onto his lap. He gently brushed a few strands of his blood-soaked hair from his face, paler than usual. He didn't wake. Shunsui dug his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed for an ambulance. His hands were shaking, the one trembling in Juushirou's smooth hair, the other unable to hold his phone steady as he waited for the call centre to pick up.

Grey cell phone found itself carelessly slammed on the bedside table, beside clock and flowers; Shunsui shifted himself to a more comfortable position and pulled Juushirou closer. He was still dressed in his bartender uniform, but he could care less about that. His eyes fell on his partner's milky skin, covered by the heavy fabric of his yukata. The Ikebana master always liked to wear _wafuku_, in contrast to Shunsui's preference for old-style western clothes. Both could appreciate the other's taste, and always believed each other the most beautiful being on earth.

Now, especially, Shunsui remembered how much he adored Juushirou. Not that he ever forgot, neither did it dull – even while he was with Coyote – this was an overwhelming burst of _gods, Juushirou, I _love_ you, wake up!_ directed at the unconscious form in his arms, the peaceful face that seemed to only be sleeping. His yukata had slipped slightly out of place, though it usually never did, by some miraculous power of Juushirou's – the same that kept their apartment neat – revealing a little more of that lithe chest and those tempting legs than he could usually stand.

He rearranged it, fingers tenderly trailing along Juushirou's warm skin. …A knock on the door.

"Kyouraku-san?"

"Coming," Shunsui called.

He slung the pink kimono Juushirou liked him to wear (but only as a cape) over his shoulder – it might comfort the white-haired man to have it later, despite how mismatched it was over his bartender's uniform – and, cradling Juushirou bridal-style, answered the door.

There were two paramedics with a stretcher waiting on him; both blanched when they realized both the caller and the long-haired yukata-clad figure in his arms were male. Shunsui sighed inwardly but kept his stance unaffected, he'd not seen the _bastards'_ reaction, no, not at all. He brushed past them straight to the ambulance, and kept Juushirou in his arms even on the way to the hospital. He wouldn't let _his_ beloved lie on _their_ stretchers, if they didn't like it. Shunsui's arms would always be a better bed for him, anyway – the man had said so himself.

Another pang of guilt shot through him, and his arms tightened around the slight body he held.

* * *

At the hospital, with its stark white walls – _Starrk_, Shunsui thought, trying to alleviate his anxiety, even with as lame a pun (then again, Juushirou liked him for his lameness) – the bartender sat at his partner's bedside as the doctor and her nurses bustled about with syringes of Juushirou's blood and sheets of paper. Finally, they seemed to reach some sort of conclusion, and the doctor glided over to him.

"Kyouraku-san? Are you this man's next of kin?" she asked. Her voice was gentle and quiet, but firm.

Shunsui nodded reluctantly, cautious of a repeat of the paramedics' show, "Close enough."

Understanding flashed through her eyes, but she showed no reaction other than that – if anything, she became even gentler.

"Hanatarou-kun, find the team that ferried Kyouraku-san from his house, and tell them to wait in my office, please."

A rather timid-looking and otherwise nondescript male nurse looked up from his patient. "But sensei-"

"Now," the doctor repeated, voice still gentle as ever yet somehow striking an incredible amount of fear in anyone who heard her. "If you don't mind?"

"Y-yes, immediately!"

The boy – he _did_ seem like no more than a boy – scurried off.

Observing Shunsui's curious gaze after her subordinate, the doctor decided she would introduce him. "Ah, Kyouraku-san. That was Hanatarou-kun, one of our newest nurses. Barely out of internship, you know."

Shunsui nodded absently, a little frightened himself. "I see."

She smiled warmly and continued, "I am Dr. Unohana Retsu; you can call me Unohana-sensei if you wish."

The bartender nodded again; Retsu's smile faded to a solemn expression. Grave. Shunsui almost didn't want to hear it.

"I shan't mince my words. Ukitake-san," she flipped through the notes on her clipboard, "does not have long to live. I take it this is not the first time this has happened?"

Shunsui glanced at his lover, then averted his gaze. "Yeah, it's happened before…"

"You didn't bring him to the doctor?"

"I didn't think Juu- he had any particularly deadly illness, so-"

A shifting to the side; Juushirou struggled to sit up, coughing slightly – but this was nothing, compared to what had taken him the morning.

"D-don't listen to him, Unohana-sensei," he rasped, "I was the one who insisted on not going to the doctor's."

Shunsui was already sitting at the bedside, but it wasn't close enough. His precious, precious Juushirou… _Damn propriety_, he muttered in his head, as he settled for taking one of the slender hands in his. _Juushirou. Juushirou._

The snow-haired man opened his mouth to greet his beloved, but Retsu cut in.

"I suggest you let your throat rest for now, Ukitake-san. You… were listening, since earlier?"

A nod. The lady sighed; she really _did_ dislike giving such forlorn diagnoses.

"I'll be direct; you have tuberculosis. It's at a stage where even antibiotics won't help. You have… a year, at most. I'm sorry."

Juushirou shook his head, smiling, then attempted to speak again. It was hoarse. "It's alright, I- knew…"

Surprise in the doctor, and shock in his lover. The former took her leave after introducing them to the nurse who would be caring for Juushirou – a Kotetsu Isane, silver-haired and rather tall for her gender – and the latter –

"You _knew_? Why didn't you tell me, Juu?"

Isane provided a well-timed glass of water, then closed the curtains around them, giving them whatever privacy the shared ward could afford. She _was_ a very good nurse; both men made a mental note to compliment her on it, but later. For now, Juushirou drank, and it cleared his throat enough to speak properly.

"I didn't want to worry you… Forgive me, Shun?"

Shunsui was stunned speechless. _Forgive… him…? _You_ forgive _me_, Juu, this was my fault… If only I'd been more attentive…_

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting Juushirou lean against his shoulder, and threading his fingers through his hair. "How long…? We could've gone to the doctor…"

The white-haired man shook his head and twined his fingers around Shunsui's. He found it tiring to speak despite his soothed throat; hopefully Shunsui would understand. Medicine… wouldn't have worked, anyway. Surely his beloved knew that his body was too weak to take even the antibiotics to cure him? He felt Shunsui trembling slightly and tightened his hand around his partner's, burying his nose in the taller man's shoulder.

It was wrong, all wrong. _I should be the one comforting you…_ Shame whirled around Shunsui's mind, and _god, how am I going to make it up to you…_

Abruptly – or as abruptly as his weakened state would let him – Juushirou pulled away. His eyes were surprisingly bright, for such lethargic movements. No, not bright. It wasn't joy or peace that shone in his chocolate eyes – beautiful though they were, no matter their expression – uncertainty? _He wants something, very, very much._ Shunsui remembered those eyes from the first days of their relationship, when Juushirou had been prepared for him to just up and leave at any moment. That sadness, that heartbreaking innocence that only wanted to trust.

He pressed a hand tenderly against his partner's cheek, almost afraid he would shatter away just like that. _Juu?_

"Whoever it is…" Juushirou coughed a few times, but it didn't worsen. He continued, sounding even more exhausted than before. "Could you- do you think- not… not see him for the next few months? Until I-I'm gone…"

The bartender's voice failed him again. It didn't do that – Shunsui was simply _never_ without words, but it had happened twice today already. And it was only – what – eight in the morning?

"Y-you knew…"

Juushirou shook his head hesitantly. _He wasn't sure._ Both of them were absolutely still for a moment, the one trying to wrap his mind around the fact that _Juushirou knows about- and he's not said anything- what kind of boyfriend am I?_ The other was trying to gather up whatever remaining strength he had in his body so he could speak, and at the same time was searching for the words that would make Shunsui understand.

He was trying not to pressure Shunsui into anything… As long as he was happy, Juushirou could strive to be too. The first time they'd met, Shunsui had looked and generally _seemed_ like the type to sleep around; even so, when Shunsui had asked, Juushirou had been ecstatic. All the same, he had been prepared for the carefree man to leave him within the year, or to be unfaithful, to lose interest in such a dull character as his, wrapped up in his flowers. But none of that had happened, and the trust he'd so wanted to put into his partner had been given eagerly, sincerely. It'd been a few years now; that Shunsui had stuck by him for so long and only _now_ had found another, was a blessing in itself. He felt like he was presuming too much.

His clutched at Shunsui's clothes in a show of desperation he'd never known he possessed. The taller man gently pried his hands off and clasped them in his own. Their eyes met.

"Ukitake Juushirou," came the deep voice, in a firm tone he'd rarely heard from Shunsui. "You _know_ that if it were legal I would've _made_ you marry me by now."

And there was that smile again, so tender, so loving. As Shunsui pulled him back into his embrace, Juushirou could feel himself falling in love all over again – but then, he fell in love with Shunsui every morning, when the arm that was currently slung around his shoulders would wrap tightly – but gently – around his waist, and the man would whine until he wasted all of the _five more minutes_ he wanted to sleep for. (Sometimes they ended up sleeping in anyway.) Every so wonderful often, that voice would wake him up, and if that wasn't heaven Juushirou didn't even _want_ to try and fathom what it _was_ like.

Shunsui's eyes dimmed slightly. _As if that would make everything alright. As if-_

"I love you, too. Very much," Juushirou said, haltingly, choosing his words carefully. "But after… After, you'll go back to him, won't you?"

Shunsui shook his head, his guilt welling up again. "I won't, Juu. I-"

Juushirou cut him off with a slender finger pressed to his lips. _I wouldn't mind, Shun. So long as you're happy._

The message, electrifyingly simple, hit Shunsui hard. He kissed the hand by his lips and kept it in his grasp, between their laps.

"Don't make yourself suffer, Juu, and especially not for me…"

Juushirou shook his head again, smiling this time. _Seeing you smile is more than enough. _Shunsui tightened his grip around his shoulders reassuringly – reassuring, both to himself and to the man he held in his arms.

And there was a silent agreement, just like that. It had taken Shunsui the whole of their time together to learn to interpret the Ikebana master's different expressions. As a naturally quiet man, he tended to speak through his art and his eyes – neither were particularly easy to understand. For a moment, he thought of Coyote, and how they had understood each other _perfectly_ from pretty much the first second they met. And for that moment, the part of him – miniscule as it was – that wanted to be Primera, and Primera alone, won out.

But the moment passed. Shunsui had devoted himself to Juushirou, and he knew what the man wanted – and it was so terrifyingly unselfish, that Shunsui couldn't help but wonder, _what did I ever do to deserve someone so pure as this? So innocent, so loving…_ That moment passed too, and he chose.

He pressed a kiss to the thinner man's forehead.

And for some reason, even though Coyo- _Starrk_ had been just a fling, just sex – and a little more, that his heart currently refused to accept, because what was a little to the _everything_ he and Juushirou shared? Even though it had just been sex, and _maybe_ a little more, he found himself thinking to Sta- Coyote? Starrk, like so many nights ago, when he'd thought the same thing to the man in his arms. _Forgive me, my Primera._

And he knew, that somehow Starrk – _I can't take it_ – Coyote had heard, just because.

* * *

That night, after Shunsui had made sure Juushirou was asleep and getting the rest he needed, he left the hospital and hitched a cab to Los Lobos. It felt… _off_, to be going there on a day that _wasn't_ Friday. _How did things go so wrong so fast?_ The Primera charm was still in his pocket, but the bouncers recognized him even without it by now, and he soon found himself weaving his way through the crowd to the bar. He heard before he saw – the sound of glass crashing onto the floor, still so musical even in the figurative hundred pieces. (Shunsui, as a bartender himself, knew they tended to break into much fewer, and much more dangerous, pieces.)

"Starrk!" came an annoyed, childish huff. "What's _wrong_ with you tonight? You've broken two martini glasses, one champagne flute, and _three_ shot glasses already! And it's not even past midnight yet!"

Silence – or, as much silence from _them_ as could be heard over the blasting music of the dance floor. Shunsui pushed past the last wall of bodies and sat himself quietly at the bar, a little away from the two bickering bartenders. Although it looked like a very one-sided argument.

"You'll have to forgive me, Lilynette," Coyote said, clearing up the glass fragments off the floor. "Like I forgave _you_ quite a few times when you were younger."

Lilynette coloured and kicked him.

"E_nough_, Lilynette."

"You're grumpier than usual, too," the magenta-eyed girl complained, pouting.

The man sighed. "I don't know why, ei-"

Shunsui dipped his head in greeting, trying to hide his expression. He, himself, didn't know what his face said – how his lips were turned, how open his eyes were. It was better to just hide. He could've sworn he felt the temperature around him drop a few degrees, though, as Coyote walked up to him, simply leaving Lilynette midsentence.

"It's because of you, isn't it?" he asked, voice quiet but somehow audible. As if _under_ the music.

The other refused to look up. "Depends on what _it_ is, doesn't it?"

"Now's not the time to play, Primera. You know it."

"And why-ever not?"

Coyote shrugged. "I promised I wouldn't hold you back; but I'd appreciate it if you told me straight. It was just sex, after all," Coyote was proud that his voice only barely quivered. "We both knew that, so what's there to avert your eyes about?"

"Well then, at least it doesn't hurt for _you_," Shunsui murmured, unintentionally stressing the pronoun.

"I'm sorry," came the lazily mocking reply – and it dawned on both that this was the closest they would ever get to arguing – "but you'll have to be louder if you want me to hear you over the music."

Shunsui rolled his eyes, uncertainty evaporating with amusement. Normally, _louder_ held a… _different_ meaning between them. _Scream for me, Starrk._ It sent a shiver up his spine, but he pushed it aside with thoughts of Juushirou waiting for him in the hospital. He got up and gestured to Coyote, though he still kept from looking directly at him, as they headed for their usual private room.

"Not everyone is as skilled at being heard despite _inane_ amounts of noise, it would seem," he countered eventually, once the door was shut behind them and the music was effectively muted.

Coyote smirked and splayed himself out on the sofa. "I _am_ one-of-a-kind. One of two, it would seem."

Shunsui joined him, though he left a distance between them, instead of slinging himself over the other man like a part of his subconscious would have liked. They sat in silence, and for once it _didn't_ feel comfortable. It wasn't awkward – both men were too laidback for that – but it was a silence they could have done without. They were thankful for the interruption when Lilynette entered and left a tray of sake on the table before leaving them alone again.

"Looks like you've tamed your Lilynette at last, huh?"

"No, Kyouraku-san; she's just more intuitive than she seems."

Though he was pretty sure Coyote couldn't see it, Shunsui raised an eyebrow. "And since when did you decide that my last name was so palatable?"

"Ah, but _I_ didn't decide. _You_ did. I'm just playing along."

His voice was blanker than usual; Shunsui caved and looked up. A split second gazing into that face made him wish he hadn't. _Why…_

"Why do _you_ look so vulnerable, then?" he asked, reaching for the sake in feigned nonchalance.

Coyote stretched, but in only served to tense his muscles more. "It's because you're looking at yourself, Primera."

Shunsui did a double-take. He _could_ see his own face reflected in the other man's grey eyes. Eyes that looked almost exactly like his… _Oh, here we go again…_ It seemed, nearly every time he and Coyote truly _saw_ each other, there would be a moment of amazement at their _like-ness_, and the spell would bind him all over again. Shunsui almost wished it bound both, but he couldn't be sure that Coyote was honestly so _perfectly_ like him. He looked away.

"Fine, if you don't want to play. But you already know, don't you?"

"I don't. Not why, anyway. Although if you're giving me _that_ face…"

The Primera threw him a half-hearted glare, paused, then pretty much spat his explanation out, "Juushirou's dying."

Those two words tasted like poison, or a hangman's noose.

Coyote actually visibly flinched.

"I see. Take good care of him."

"I will," he paused, hesitant, then, "You gave me your Primera, can I give you something in return?"

The man hummed noncommittally.

"I'll give you my queen, how's that sound? Katen Kyoukotsu."

Coyote started. "What? What for?"

_For everything._ But Shunsui couldn't say that, not when it would cement the pain that shouldn't have been there in the first place. "I want to be by his side twenty-four-seven from now, and I think I'll take Sougyou No Kotowari after he… so yeah…"

The words trailed, the muted pounding from the club outside the room bled in.

"I'll take as good care of her as you could ever of him," Coyote said finally.

"Thanks."

And Shunsui left. Somewhere deep inside, he admitted he had wanted Coyote to _not_ just let him go like that, to _not_ be so understanding, to _not_ be so _like_ him and _not_ understand how important Juushirou was. Or maybe he'd wanted one last night of guilty pleasure, when he didn't need to worry about bruising pale hips or marking smooth skin, and his partner uncannily knew just _what_ it was he wanted. _No, Juushirou's waiting.

* * *

_

Was it possible to love two people, at the same time?


	3. Chapter 03: Black Clothing

**Iro Oni**

_Chapter Three: Black Clothing_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

-Warning-  
Rating upped!  
-Warning-

* * *

Black. The only black clothes that Shunsui had were the vest he wore while working at Katen, the pants at the same, and the yukata that Juushirou insisted he wear while in his shop. Had, insisted. Shunsui pulled on the traditional Japanese clothes while trying to keep the tears at bay. _He wouldn't want to see me cry._ His hand paused over the pink kimono he'd been wearing on a constant basis for the past six months, but he decided against it. Juushirou would have preferred him to wear it, certainly, but custom dictated he should only wear black. Shunsui left it on their bed, and it was one of the loneliest things he'd ever seen.

* * *

Juushiro's grave would be, as he'd requested, at Seireitei, that looked more like one large Japanese garden than a cemetery. The graves there were far apart, hidden in alcoves of trees and shrubs, pruned in the traditional style that the Ikebana master so liked. The funeral was held at the grave, and if not for the coffin – smooth granite that looked like a container for one of his floral arrangements (his last) – it would've looked more like a wedding.

It was a small affair, despite the beautiful surroundings; only close friends – the ones who had visited Sougyou on a regular basis even after finding out that Juushirou wouldn't be settling down with a nice _lady_ – were present, and were placing single white roses within the still-unlidded coffin. They would be the only cushions Juushirou's body would have; the inside of the coffin was as bare as its outside – Juushirou had wished it that way.

To complement the coffin – they wouldn't bury it, but seal it and leave it where the sun could still reach the white-haired angel – Shunsui had designed the surrounding area like one big Ikebana arrangement. He considered it his last material present to Juushirou, as well as an exercise to revive all his own sensibilities in the art. After all, he'd be the one arranging the flowers for the customers from now on; not many believed it, but he was nearly as proficient at Kado as his lover had been – it came from being in constant contact with the man, despite his initial preference for the less restrictive bouquets of the west. It'd taken a while, but he'd eventually come to appreciate the minimalist designs Juushirou liked so much as well, and the landscaping proved it.

A sort of bamboo forest around the grave made it a clearing, with Juushirou's coffin as the centerpiece – well, it was slightly skewed to the left. Although it went against the conventional rules to use _trees_ in Ikebana, he'd taken a few liberties – he _was_ still Shunsui the bartender, after all – and had a sakura tree a little away from the coffin, as well as a momo tree on the far side. It was still the basic scalene trinity, so no one could fault him. In April, the sakura would bloom and when they faded, the momo would take over.

* * *

Shunsui had been kneeling by the momo tree for some time now; absently watching the white roses being offered. Shunsui was glad that all Juushirou's friends knew him well enough to know his favourite flower, and to prepare it just the way the man liked – thorns and leaves intact, with the rose itself only beginning to bloom. Like that, it was as suitable for arrangement as any traditional Ikebana staple. Black kimono and yukata scattered across the clearing, but the man's eyes fell on the only figure in the clearing that was dressed in modern clothes.

As if feeling his gaze, the figure turned and strode to him. "Kyouraku-san."

"Kuchiki-kun."

Despite his attire, Kuchiki Byakuya was the embodiment of traditional Japanese values – calm to the point of coldness and reserved to the point of iciness. All the same, he had been a loyal kouhai to Juushirou, and was a rather pleasant companion once he started opening up. Today, he wore a black and navy suit, probably branded – but tastefully, because the Kuchiki hated any _pomp_ – and he gracefully folded himself into a kneel beside his yukata-clad elder.

"My condolences, Kyouraku-san," he offered, sincere though formal. "We'll all miss Juushirou-sempai very much, I'm sure."

Shunsui nodded, mute.

* * *

The mourners eventually left as the sun set, their respects paid and their admiration expressed. And Shunsui was alone, standing by the stone coffin now lined with white roses, tender gaze on his lover's face. He felt tears running down his own cheeks, and where they landed, it looked as if Juushirou was crying too.

The thought rent his heart in two. It would have disturbed his precious angel's sleep so he didn't, but he could feel the anguished cry building up in his lungs. He sat with his back to the cool material, a leg against his chest and the other tucked inwards, and just let the rivulets on his face continue to flow.

* * *

The pain had dulled – or rather, Shunsui had gotten used to the internal howling. But he would never forget the pain, and was pretty sure it would never leave him; nor would he ever run out of tears, even if they stopped for a while to let him rest. His eyes burnt. He shifted to lie on the grass, letting his back slide against the smooth stone –warmed by constant contact with his back – and faced up to the night sky.

In his whole life, Shunsui had only learnt by heart of one constellation – Pisces – because Juushirou had named his shop after it. He'd done so because of the water-element of the star sign, that melded so well with the core values of Ikebana. Sensitivity, calm, patience, gentleness. It shone in the sky, and he could just trace the imaginary lines that made it up. As always, he couldn't have made either head or tail of it, if not for the explanation Juushirou had provided. In fact, just at that moment, it felt as if the man was lying down beside him – in a morbid way, Shunsui realized, he actually _was_ – and repeating the tale of Aphrodite and Eros.

He could almost hear Juushirou's voice, in the night breeze, or maybe he was hallucinating. _But after… After, you'll go back to him, won't you?_ A sick part of Shunsui – the part that had wanted to be Primera – the part he'd thought he'd locked away – started _joyfully_ at the memory. Yeah, Shunsui was hallucinating. But here was the agony again, the anguish of knowing that this was all his fault, and the masochistic part of his psyche that just wanted to make everything _worse_.

Was it Friday? Shunsui had forgotten. Did it even matter anymore? No. In the end, he knew – and he supposed Juushirou had known as well – there was only one way out. The yukata-clad man only wished it didn't have to be so painful. He got up mechanically, gaze sliding from stars to earth and his _angel's_ face. He kissed his beloved for the last time, and left.

* * *

"Welcome back," voice, smooth like its owner's favorite drink, greeted Shunsui as he stepped into the familiar bar.

Coyote looked up from the glass he was polishing – he'd closed shop just a little while ago – to meet Shunsui's blank eyes.

"Thanks for taking care of Katen," he murmured, unable to find anything else to say. _Juushiro's gone._

The guilt was making him weaker than ever. The fact that it was the night of Juushirou's funeral, and that he was already _here_, come staggering back to his _sin_ like Coyote was supposed to _save_ him; it only added to the anguish that was eating him from inside. He felt like a dead man walking, and did Juushirou _honestly_ mean for him to _do_ this? Probably not; Shunsui was just too desperate for _some_ sort of solace – however inappropriate – to _not_ come to the only one who would understand…

Coyote replaced the glass on the countertop and vaulted over it – like he'd done on the first night. Neatly, gracefully, landing immediately in front of Shunsui. The other man didn't even have the time to flinch.

"Not a problem," he whispered, breath against the other's ear and hands pulling Shunsui's arms around his waist.

The thinner man sealed their lips together, warm and slick. _Let me take away your pain._ And of course, that magical telepathy bound them again, and Shunsui understood _perfectly_ what the other was trying to say, behind the submissive movement of his mouth, _begging_ to be ravished. He obliged, drowning the world and _reality_ out with the heat that was steadily growing between them. This connection, that he'd abandoned for the past six months, that he'd began to think he could do without… This was his lifeline, and this was his drug, and the Primera side of him was _glad_ that Juushirou had been too weak to survive the year the doctor had predicted.

Shunsui pulled away, breathing hard. Coyote read the conflict in his eyes and moved from his embrace, both to turn off the lights and grab the keys, as well as to give the man some room to think. To suffer, Coyote supposed. _Because he wants to._

"My place, I take it," he said, trying not to let the other's grief affect him.

What Shunsui needed now was to forget. Even momentarily, even if it would torture him tenfold at daybreak; Coyote would do that for him. He was the only one who could, after all. Tonight was just another night, and the man's other lover was at home, asleep, alive. Not that he was so insensitive – in fact, Shunsui's pain resonated within him _more_ than he would've liked. _Let me take away your pain._

The yukata-clad man nodded shakily. "Your place."

* * *

The cab ride was incredibly long, and Coyote was beginning to regret kissing the other so hastily. The lust generated from that _one kiss_ was growing, spreading through their bodies, bringing up memories of half-a-year past. He wouldn't even have minded if Shunsui had taken him just _there_, in the car, and _damn_ propriety and _damn_ the driver. (His lover cast him a look just then, as if to say, _damn propriety indeed_. For once, Coyote felt like he was missing something.)

* * *

Paying the taxi fare, heading up the stairs, unlocking the front door, stumbling into the bedroom – all passed in a blur. Both felt like they were drunk, drunk beyond reason and reality, and on absinthe, no less. It felt like a hallucination, a mirage, and once Coyote locked the bedroom door close behind them, the hazy calm shattered; Shunsui pinned him against the wall, one hand somehow already around both his wrists and keeping them above his head, the other hand planted beside his head.

"Starrk," the man breathed. _Make me forget._

Coyote groaned at the sound of his name pronounced on that tongue. Shunsui knew _just_ how to roll his 'r', to send the sound straight to his abdomen, fuelling the slow burn that was already there. The teeth that nipped at his lips – lightly, but enough to _feel_ – didn't help, either. He wanted to touch, as well, wanted to feel the other's weight bearing down on him, in him, _god, when did I become so needy-_

He gasped as Shunsui bit down on his collarbone, sharp and fire-hot for a split second. And the tongue that made its way up his neck, leisurely, torturous, leaving a wet trail behind that was as fiery as the bite yet cooled in an equally short time. Coyote's mind blanked out; it was all he could do to struggle for the oxygen his body required to function.

* * *

Shunsui pulled away from Coyote's neck to meet his lust-filled eyes – those _eyes_. Why did their eyes have to look so similar? Clouded ash, misted slate; glazed steel and glassy, dull, silver. Just seeing himself reflected in those eyes, like so many times before, could throw him off the edge. He shifted his grip, unceremoniously _throwing_ the thinner man onto the bed and following suit.

First to go was the cravat. Next was the vest, then the white shirt underneath. Shunsui knew this, because this was _his_ uniform, and he'd felt Coyote's wandering hands strip them off him before, and the fact that it was _him_ wearing the clothes this time made a shiver run down his spine. His fingers, used to the job, undid knot and buttons quickly and the man under him gladly arched into his stray touches to help get the cumbersome fabric _off_. Of course, he wouldn't let Shunsui get away with remaining fully clothed-

Kisses and nips scattered across his now-bare torso, without even a moment's delay. _This much, I need you this much._ Coyote writhed under Shunsui's ministrations, that tongue and those hands playing across his chest, along his arms, downward. He didn't have the time to think, didn't even have the time to _breathe_, so he just tugged at the band holding the other's hair in a ponytail until it came loose, then tangled his fingers in the hair that was so like his, and tugged at _that_.

Shunsui hissed pleasantly against his lover's skin as he felt his hair being pulled. He ran his tongue over Coyote's nipple, was rewarded by the nub hardening and a gasp from the body under him. Coyote closed his grip in Shunsui's hair and wrenched, desperate for some respite (for it to never stop), pulled his lover up for another fiery kiss. Shunsui pressed his tongue past his lover's eagerly parted lips, ravaging the sweet cavern past the man's uncannily sharp canines. Opportunity was taken, slender fingers shifted the sides of Shunsui's yukata away; raked his nails down his chest, fumbled with the traditional belt he was so unused to – _won't this thing come off-_

The knot gave, and the black silk slid away to reveal tanned skin. Not that Coyote had the time to appreciate the visual until they broke away from each other for air. And then only for a short while – _he's not wearing underwear, the bastard_ – before Shunsui claimed his lips again. He ground down against his lover, his bare erection against the smooth material of his pants and generating friction almost as delicious as the alcoholic bitter-sweet of Coyote's mouth. But if it was going to match up…

Shunsui pulled away from the kiss – smirked placidly at Coyote's whine of protest – and slid his body downwards, careful to keep as much contact between them as possible. The trousers were made quick work of, as well as the underwear, freeing the other man's arousal. Shunsui paused, _look at me_, hooded eyes meeting Coyote's, then licked up the hardness and took the tip into his mouth.

"Primera-"

Coyote's hands found his hair again, gripping hard enough to hurt, but it was a good pain. A good pain. Shunsui dipped his head, taking the whole of his partner's length in his mouth; the other bucked into the warmth, and Shunsui relaxed his throat against the invading member. Even with the pulling at his hair, his partner still didn't do anything that _controlled_; Coyote was a _reactive_ man, arching and gasping and _moaning_, letting Shunsui set the pace, Shunsui bob his head erratically, Shunsui lightly scrape his teeth along the underside of his cock (_fuck-_), Shunsui hollow his cheeks and swallow around his head (_fuckfuckfuck-_)

_Look at me._ So Coyote looked, between trying– and failing– to not sound like a complete _girl_ with on her first time, and threading his fingers frantically through Shunsui's wavy hair. He shouldn't have looked; the sight of his Primera – so similar, so – tresses tangled (that would be his fault) and lips in a smile around him as he dipped and lifted his head, and the massage of that _throat_- white burst behind and before his eyes.

He was still high, still high on the drug called Shunsui, when said man sealed their mouths together again, and bitter-salty fluid passed between their lips, some of it escaping and sliding down his chin. The concept of being fed his own seed – as well as Shunsui's weight against him again, the headily suffocating feel of having that body above him – thrilled along his spine in _every_ direction and Coyote found himself hardening again. He shifted his hands to his lover's back, pressing their bodies closer together, _clawing_ patterns on his skin. _More_.

* * *

There is love, and there is lust; there is passion, and there is frenzy. For a moment, Shunsui was just _caught up_ in – between? – the four, drowned in the heat of the body under him, and the fleeting thought that there would no longer be any _gentleness, no longer any-._ He could still taste Coyote; his skin, his seed. The man flipped him off and straddled him, reversing their positions.

"This is new," Shunsui murmured, under his breath, breath hot like the seeing the usual passive man sitting across his waist and watching him.

_Relax. Let me take your pain away; let me make you forget._ Ash eyes, somehow clear behind the glazes of lust, raked across each other's bodies. _Save me. Blind me._

Coyote positioned himself, then sunk onto Shunsui's erection, wincing as it filled him to the hilt. But it was a good pain. A good pain. The other had never prepared him before – their sex was always rough, always this frantic – so he'd learnt (even from affairs before) to love the fire that seemed to tear his body in half. He lifted himself, then dropped with the same force he remembered Shunsui pounding into him with, and Shunsui gripped the sheets like he'd gripped his hair, threatening to tear the expensive white silk.

White. Black. The stars in their vision and the oblivion of pleasure, and the cravat that had landed somewhere in the room. Shunsui couldn't care less, couldn't even breathe. The man above him, so rarely active, was riding him and it was _hot_, hearing his heavy breaths and pants. And suddenly, he _knew_ this angle, _knew_ it would send pleasure screaming up Coyote's body.

"Primera, my Primera-" the nickname fell from his lips in a gasp, reverent yet obscene.

Coyote sped up, consistently finding that _spot_, and the resulting tight, pulsing, heat was overwhelming. Shunsui knew he was groaning and arching and bucking like the other had been earlier, but – again – he couldn't care any less, was too busy taking in the cloying oxygen that they were sharing, too busy drinking in the sight of his lover, covered in sweat, eyes rolled back in pleasure. His hands were planted on the broader chest, supporting his increasingly frenetic movements; a hand shifted to tend to his own weeping cock, and the other shifted to keep balance.

They both knew he didn't actually need to touch himself to come; they'd proved many, _many_ times that Coyote would come just from being taken, just from feeling Shunsui's body slick against his back, just from hearing dirty little nothings whispered in his ear. Not that Shunsui was complaining; watching him fist himself and throw his head back in bliss sent just as fierce a thrill through his body as watching him ride. Both at the same time was almost too much, but he wanted to watch the other come first. It was one of their games- _So tight, Starrk, Starrk, Starrk. Faster, harder._

So why did it feel like he was _reminding_ himself that it wasn't Juushirou above him?

A flash of hurt in Coyote's eyes; or maybe it was pain in his own eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed to work for the other man, and he came for the second time that night.

"_Shunsui!_"

And that was like a reminder, too, but two could play at that game. White liquid splayed across their abdomens, and the contractions around him sent him all-too-easily over the edge as well.

"_Primera-_"

He cried out, filling Coyote with his seed. And he reached up, pulled the other man down beside him, nuzzling the nape of his neck. It felt like an apology, because he was sure Coyote had (un)miraculously known – it had nearly been Juushirou's name on his lips. Shunsui held him, gentler than usual, and that, too, felt wrong though it was right – who wouldn't like to be held tenderly by their lover? – just like them being together _tonight_ was so right though wrong.

* * *

Later, Coyote watched helplessly as his lover cried himself to sleep.


	4. Interlude: How Do You Measure A Year?

**Iro Oni**

_Interlude: How Do You Measure A Year?_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

_0: Five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred minutes[1]_

A year. The moment Shunsui had heard the diagnosis, his mind had started whirling. Trying to grasp what a year would feel like, how long, how _short_, how much time he had left to spend with Juushirou, to make him happy. Thankfully, when Nanao visited them at the hospital, she resolved it for him with a few quick taps to her handphone's calculator. "525600", the screen declared –

* * *

_1: In daylights_

Mild mornings, with sunlight filtering through their thin curtains. Shunsui did his best to get up before his lover, so the man could wake to his voice, like he'd requested once upon a time. Propping himself up on his arms, with the covers still over them, brushing Juushirou's silky hair from his face, pressing a light kiss to his smooth forehead. Sleepily murmured greetings. G_ood morning, Juu_.

_2: In sunsets_

Walks in the park by Sougyou No Kotowari. Sitting on a bench, or in the grass, or on top of the playground; watching the sky glaze orange and red; a leisurely dinner al fresco. Before, Shunsui would've had to accompany Juushirou home and head for Katen; now, they could stay out as long as they wanted. Till the light faded and the sky dyed navy, till the stars and city lights blinked white against almost-black.

_3: In midnights_

Of tangled sheets and gently caressing hands, of passion somehow cooled to leisurely pleasure, of the slow grind that burnt through their bodies. Of Juushirou's long, slender fingers threading through his lover's hair and trailing along his skin. Of Shunsui's tender kisses and whispered promises.

(Of subconsciously missing rougher hands and fiercer touches.)

_4: In cups of coffee_

Espressos and lattes at quaint cafés. Nanao, despite school and work – she still tended Katen – visited relatively often. Invariably, Juushirou would want to have the tea ceremony she'd been wanting to see for so long, but a violent coughing fit would put an end to _that_, and Nanao would instead bring them to a new café she'd discovered with her university-mates during the week. Stares at the pretty but sharp undergraduate, at her blasé yet handsome friend, at the graceful man in traditional clothes beside them. (Hair of sugar-white, skin of cream, and eyes of coffee-brown.)

_5: In inches_

Of never wanting to leave Juushirou's side, of wanting to be always _closer_. Finding it _painful_ to lie back in the shop with his sakkat over his face while his lover arranged his flowers, because of the anxiety, of the _need_ to be _closer_, because time was ticking.

Of hands hesitating while coaxing his flowers into place, of wanting to look over his shoulder, even to just _see_ Shunsui still there, still beside him. Because of the fear, because he would already be losing his world soon; he didn't want to lose Shunsui as well.

_6: In miles_

"It's great to see young people interested in Ikebana, Lilynette-kun!"

"I've _told_ you a _thousand_ times, old man! _Starrk_ sent me here!"

"Ah yes. He's your father, I remember? Well here're your flowers, and come again soon~"

Of _that_.

(Shunsui hid his face behind his sakkat as he waited for the familiar voice to fade into the distance. The concept was somehow alien; that Coyote cared enough to send Lilynette to check on them; that the girl cared at all to oblige.)

_7: In laughter_

After so long spent in pleasant calm in the flower shop, so long with adoring silence against darkening skies. Suddenly, they had the time to talk and to be children again, like the childhood sweethearts they'd never been. Walking down the street, lounging about at home, chatting endlessly, eyes lit up in delight.

_8: In strife_

Juushirou wincing slightly whenever passers-by would stare, Shunsui hugging him all-the-tighter against himself. The distance of those unrelenting eyes, cold and hard no matter what color, because their hair was long, their figures – in yukata, that were too effeminate to the normal person – because their hands were entwined. The Ikebana master tried not to let it affect him, but it showed in the slight downward turn of his lips; it was all the other could do to steer his lover away from the disapproving glances and pretend they didn't reach him, either. Juushirou leaning in once they were out of sight, shakily absorbing the steady warmth that his partner radiated, Shunsui wrapping his broader frame around him to protect and assure.

_9: In five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred minutes,_

And not even that much;

("I love you, Shunsui.")

_10: How do you measure-_

barely half

(_I love you too, Juushirou, very much. Never leave me.)_

_11: A year in the life?_

Waking up one mild morning, with sunlight filtering through their thin curtains. Bending over Juushirou's peaceful face, brushing his silky hair from his face, pressing a light kiss to his smooth forehead. But the man – body still warm, still – didn't respond. Sadly whispered goodbyes; Shunsui pulled up the covers and held him – heat steadily fading even within his arms – tight for the rest of the day.

* * *

_0: Seasons of love_

Coyote pulled Shunsui's sakkat – not that the man used it anymore – from over his eyes and sat up, glaring half-heartedly at the pink kimono across the room.

"Ikebana is supposed to be quiet, Primera," he commented dryly. _Shut up, I'm trying to sleep._

Sensing the uncommitted reprimand, Shunsui grinned sheepishly. His eyes continued along the aloe stem lines in his new arrangement, his hands continued adding the jushi[2] beside the main stalks. After a while, his grin subsided into a smile, so similar to Juushirou's – a faraway look to his eyes, not looking _at_, but seeing _through_.

"Don't you like my stories?"

Coyote rolled his eyes, exasperated yet amused – thanks to whatever form of telepathy the pair shared, Shunsui had guessed it _again_. He lay back, splayed on the tatami like his lover used to, and replaced the sakkat over his face.

* * *

_0: Seasons of love_

Sunset – nearly time to close shop. But when Coyote woke up, his surroundings hadn't changed. It might as well still have been midday, if not for the orange light streaming in the shop's glass front. Still the neutral-toned tatami, still the out-of-place yet fitting pink kimono on his lover's back. _Still at it, huh._ He sighed resignedly, turned over, and went back to sleep, hand draped across the sakkat that'd fallen off while he slept.

* * *

Notes:  
[1] Prompts in this interlude are thanks to the song Seasons Of Love from the wonderful musical RENT. (I _think _it's typeset like that.) Go check it out, if ever~  
[2] Jushi - In Ikebana, there are three main "lines" - created by the stalks/stems of the flowers - shin, soe and hikae (in descending order of height). Jushi are "lines" that are then added between to accentuate the design.

* * *

Also: I did a drawing to accompany the last chapter (hence the length of time it took to post this up), at http:/ /clarota. deviantart. com /# / d2tlzvd. (As usual, away with the spaces.) If you've read this far, I don't think I need to warn about maturity, yeah?


	5. Chapter 04: White Bones

**Iro Oni**

_Chapter Four: White Bones_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

"It's his birthday today, isn't it," Coyote observed suddenly.

Shunsui looked up from poking at his food, actually looking _forlorn_. The atmosphere between them – usually light and relaxed – had been gloomy since the moment Shunsui had opened his eyes – eyes that looked duller than usual, too. Even without the similarities between them – the apparent reason for what had seemed like an unexplainable telepathy, though no less spellbinding – Coyote would've known all too easily that something was wrong. He automatically ran through various scenarios in his head, almost effortlessly producing the most likely reason for the man's depression – dejection. Ah, but they'd shared the same bed last night…

The second most likely reason, then. And seeing his lover's expression only confirmed it. Neither bartender – one now Ikebana master – had thought it possible for those eyes to hold so much sadness, but it was, and for the second time, too, since the night of the funeral. Half-dressed over breakfast, and Shunsui with that half-wistful-half-utterly-dejected look on his face. He tried to hide it, of course – not that it worked.

Coyote shook his head, smiling. "Let's go, Primera. The world will survive without Sougyou No Kotowari for one day."

* * *

A walk through town later, Shunsui and Coyote arrived at Seireitei. The roads on the way had been black and brown with slush, the pavements an indifferent grey with any white swept to the sides and printed with the soles of playful children; the garden, in contrast, was covered in an undisturbed – albeit thin – layer of snow. It was dusted along the bare boughs and branches of the trees, on the ground so they couldn't really tell if the grass was still green underneath. It doubled the silence and the space. Breathtaking and beautiful, but in a sad way – it reminded Shunsui of Juushirou's hair, blowing in the icy wind.

They padded past grave after grave, the heels of their geta thankfully keeping them above the snow. There had been flowers here, in spring and summer – from conservative white or mourning black to the jubilant bright blessings for the afterlife – though autumn and winter had taken their toll, and everything now was white, grey, or brown. As the pair found when they reached Juushirou's alcove, only _that_ Ikebana-esque clearing had survived the loss of leaves and blooms. After all, Ikebana never focused on the frills that western tastes preferred; even with the sakura and momo trees reduced to their bark and branches, it still held its traditional charm. And, of course, bamboo never went out of season.

Shunsui was quite pleased with himself, though the smugness faded on the breeze that whispered by, that sounded like Juushirou's gentle voice. He stood before the granite coffin, feeling his yukata flow, not quite billowing, but moving, gracefully – maroon verging on black, covered by the pink kimono slung over his shoulders, winter linings on both thankfully warm against his skin. It would've looked even better if only his bag hadn't been in the way; it was diagonally across his back, a traditional woven sack of sorts, of the few types that would suit traditional clothes like his. Through the fabric, he could still feel Coyote's presence behind him, but it was a little away, giving him space – _no.

* * *

_

"_Shun, you don't have to come if you don't want to, you know."_

"_I know, Juu."_

_It was the first time he met Kuchiki Byakuya, and the reason that he could – that the man let him – get past the ice. Because the first time they met, Kuchiki Byakuya had been a sobbing wreck waiting to happen, standing over his late wife's mahogany coffin, hands gripping its edge so hard his whole body was shaking. Rather, that had been the first time Shunsui had _seen_ him; he didn't dare venture too close to the front of the chapel, towards which Juushirou was striding anxiously. These were strangers, and it felt like he didn't _deserve_ to know their sorrow. Juushirou turned to look at him questioningly, wondering why he was keeping so far back. He tried a smile and waved, but didn't move more than a few pews forward. _Give him space, give him space… _Even if these people wouldn't mind him, he didn't know Kuchiki Hisana, and he couldn't mourn for her.

* * *

_

"Coyote," Shunsui murmured, his voice carrying in the silence, "go home."

The other man started. He'd been occupied watching Shunsui's back, and arguing with himself as to whether – _should I keep back? Should I be beside him? Should I be here at all? Ukitake-san is probably –_

"Home," he echoed, _why?_

Shunsui gently ran his fingers along the cold grain of the coffin. "You can't mourn for him."

It had been a quiet answer, and there were _layers_ of understanding – when had there _not_ been, between them? Coyote didn't take offense in that it was short; he stepped forward to rest his hand reassuringly on his lover's shoulder, then turned to leave.

"I'll be at the café down the road," he called back, as an afterthought.

He didn't need to turn to see Shunsui nodding absently. In his mind's eye, Shunsui dropped his bag to the ground, magicked a picnic blanket from it and spread it – despite the decidedly bad weather for anything even _close_ to a picnic – on the ground before the coffin, sat down, and laid out sake for two. It had originally been sake for three, but Coyote was in a way relieved that he wouldn't have to stay. He turned the corner, leaving Shunsui and Juushirou to themselves.

* * *

Alone, yet not quite. He'd just sent Coyote off, despite him being the original reason he'd gathered the courage to come back here in the first place. If the man hadn't dragged him – almost literally – out the front door, he would've headed for Sougyou No Kotowari like on any other day, and felt all the more guilty for it in the evening. But right now, with two cold sake in front of him – hopefully they wouldn't freeze too soon – he felt like he was breathing a very thick sort of air, not the cool crispness that should've surrounded him, and it was surprisingly soothing.

It felt like… breathing through time. Like Juushirou was pervading all his senses. Nostalgia, even if it'd only been a year.

"Ne, Juu," he started, and it didn't at all feel like he was talking to himself. And because _how are you_ was too cliché, he opted for, "Do you like the flowers?"

Of course he liked the flowers. Flowers were Juushirou's life. Had been. Still were? Shunsui vaguely wondered if he should be jealous, but then again Juushirou was _never_ jealous, even with – besides, they'd been there before.

* * *

"_Ne, Juu."_

_Shunsui was lying on the tatami of Sougyou No Kotowari's floor, sakkat over his eyes to block out the light. It was what would soon become their normal day, with the white-haired of the pair tending to his shop and flowers while the other napped, pink floral kimono draped over himself like a blanket over his simpler, black yukata; precisely a month since Shunsui had asked to be let into his partner's life. Juushirou was kneeling by a rather large arrangement-in-the-making, dressed in a yukata of dark jade, mildly shimmery. He had many more where it came from, of shades that both contributed to the calm of his art and contrasted nicely with his complexion. All in all, he was stunning, and Shunsui wished he'd turn and face him, or at least talk to him – but the man seemed only to be interested in his plants._

_Silence._

"_Ukitake Juushirou, if you keep ignoring me like this I'm going to leave," Shunsui whined, sitting up and letting his sakkat fall to the floor beside him._

_Still the silence, still the undivided attention to the plants; still the _serenity_ in his eyes, as he followed each line with his gaze, making sure it was _perfect_. Sometimes, Shunsui found it endearing that his lover would engross himself so deeply in the flowers – he found it so the more time passed – but Juushirou hadn't spoken since they'd entered the shop. And it was nearly three in the afternoon. The moment they'd stepped through the door, he'd _flown_ to the side of the large dish that he'd prepared the night before, and then knelt to meditate. The only activity after that had been the man getting up to retrieve a stalk or two of flowers, then returning to his seiza-position before his newest project. It was all infuriatingly slow, and _quiet_. Like Shunsui wasn't there at all. Even now, the man didn't turn to look at him._

_Shunsui groaned in exasperation. "Look, Juu, I'm going, alright? Call me when you finish with up with your _flowers_."_

_He'd wanted it to sound playful, but the last word held a little more venom than he'd meant. Ah well. He could make up for it later, when – _if_ – Juushirou came to look for him. If he tried to explain himself, it'd probably fall on deaf ears anyway; he headed for the door. Some reaction from his lover would've been nice, but all he got was Juushirou breaking the silence in a _tranquil_ voice, as if he were talking to a child._

"_Kado requires silence, Shun, forgive me if it seems like I'm ignoring you on purpose."_

_A small smile found its way to Juushirou's lips. Shunsui's eyebrow twitched when he turned and saw it._

"_You _are_ doing it on purpose, aren't you?"_

_And all the tension dispersed, as a sheepish grin bloomed on the Ikebana master's normally passive face._

"_Not really. I _do_ have to finish this for a customer…"_

"_I hate you, Juu," Shunsui muttered, sinking back down onto the tatami and replacing his sakkat over his eyes._

_The other's grin faded to a contented smile. "I love you too, Shun."

* * *

_

"Aa, Juu, you're so mean, aren't you," Shunsui crooned, already half-drunk.

But he was wonderful, too. Kind, sweet. So beautiful, so pure, so modest; so like an angel, with such fine, smooth, white hair for wings, and a halo in the morning light. The slice of icy blade in the alcohol's haze – even if it had only been a light haze, little more than mist; peaceful mornings with Juushirou in his arms, cradling the body to his and burying his nose in that shoulder…

* * *

"_Shun, do me a favour and wake me up more often," Juushirou murmured, eyes fluttering open._

_Shunsui, arms on either side of his partner's head, both supporting himself and pinning him, hummed. "Why?"_

_The more slender of the two – also the more conservative – blushed. "Because it's nice…?"_

_A husky laugh. "I think you've got it wrong, Juu. What's _nice_, is what's going to happen to you _after_ I wake you up."_

_Shunsui leaned down to catch Juushirou's lips in a kiss. _

"_Like now."

* * *

_

For good reason, Shunsui supposed, everyone they knew believed _he_ was the one corrupting Juushirou.

The breeze picked up suddenly, scattering snow from the trees, and playing through Shunsui's hair. It took the floral kimono off his shoulders, sending it floating away, and the man gave chase, one hand on his sakkat to keep it on. A few steps – his stride was thankfully long – returned the pink fabric to his hands; a few more steps and a flourish returned him to his earlier seat and the kimono to his shoulders. The wind died down, brushing along his skin playfully. _Quit laughing at me, Juu,_ he whined internally, despite the smile on his lips.

He ran his fingers tenderly along the silk hem of the kimono, still floating on the light draft. Despite the fact that it had been a complete mistake – although there _was_ the possibility that Juushirou had set him up – this was the most precious present he'd received from the Ikebana master, other than the man himself. It hadn't even been his birthday; Juushirou simply disappeared on an "errand" and returned with a dubious package that he claimed was a "present". The more Shunsui thought about it, the more it seemed like it _had_ been a prank, one of those that the white-haired man liked to pull yet always got away with because of his deceptively mild manners –

* * *

"_Shun, I have a present for you~"_

_And Juushirou's eyes had sparkled as if he were still a child as he pulled a rather large, flat box from behind him. Shunsui accepted it warily – he knew by now that despite his partner's harmless exterior, there were certain things…_

…_Like this kimono – _kimono_? –_

_The other man's face fell as he saw the garment that emerged from the box and its paper lining._

"_Oh dear, the shop must've given me the wrong package…"_

_Seeing Juushirou crestfallen sent a pang through Shunsui's heart. "It's alright, Juu," and he slung it over his shoulders, "I like this."_

_(Which was true, because Shunsui's fashion sense had always been a little whimsical. He just wouldn't have admitted it otherwise.)_

_The white-haired man's eyes lit up again – glowing even brighter, if possible.

* * *

_

Shunsui absently wondered what Juushirou had originally wanted to get for him, if there _had _been something else. But it was too late to ask now. All he had was the kimono, and the memories that had saturated the fabric. Setting his sake dish down, newly refilled and newly re-emptied, he glanced over and could just swear that the sake level in the cup opposite him had gone down. He brought one of the sleeves of the kimono to his face and buried his nose in it.

It smelled like Juushirou's hair. Shunsui hoped his tears – few as they were – wouldn't wash away the scent. As to how it'd started smelling like the man though it was Shunsui who wore it… A smile found its way to his lips, hidden in the fabric; Juushirou really _was_ pretty when he did his hair up with a chopstick, however small a detail it was. Shunsui had snuck out of bed – like a child, really – and stolen something he perhaps shouldn't have.

* * *

"_Kyouraku Shunsui, what are you doing with my shampoo?"_

_Shunsui dropped his kimono into the basin and rinsed his hands hurriedly. He whirled around, trying to use the – rather unsubstantial – bulk of his body to block the evidence of his crime._

"_I'm not doing anything," he defended, before realizing he'd responded too quickly._

_It was early morning, and Shunsui had expected his partner to still be asleep – he'd always been a heavy sleeper, after all. (Or maybe their nights were too exhausting for his frail body?) The last he'd checked, Juushirou had been tangled in the sheets, bare milky skin against white silk sheets. His heart beat a faster at the image, and then skipped a beat when he remembered why he'd gotten addicted to sleeping in silk. It passed; Coyote wasn't a part of his life anymore. More importantly, Juushirou was currently standing in front of him, dressed in one of his house yukata. Even more importantly, the yukata – a simple white cotton affair – hadn't been tied as conservatively as the Ikebana master usually did his yukata while he was out. Shunsui's heartbeat sped up again._

_Juushirou stood with his arms folded across his chest, amused all-knowing smile on his face. He glanced around Shunsui, and saw the pink kimono, still covered in white foam. The game was up._

"_Alright, alright," the other gave up and settled for a pout. "How did you even know I was using your shampoo anyway?"_

_The white-haired man rolled his eyes amusedly and pointed to the bottle on the counter beside the basin. His partner winced, sheepish, and he took the opportunity to commandeer the basin._

"I'll_ do it, baka."_

_And it was something like six in the morning, and it was still dark out; Juushirou magicked a chopstick hair pin from one of his sleeves and deftly twisted his hair into a bun. It made him look all the more effeminate, and all the more domestic – it just seemed to suit him so well. Of course, Shunsui would never understand how he seemed to have _everything_ up his sleeves, regardless of which yukata he was wearing, and the manner he'd been divested of it. (The bartender was pretty sure there'd been _nothing _in when he removed it last night. Not that he was particularly meticulous-)_

"_Why, though?"_

"_So… I'll have something to remember… you by…"_

_Terribly insensitive to say that his lover's face. Shunsui felt like slapping himself._

_He was stopped by Juushirou's gentle eyes, and a chaste kiss that seemed to say everything his words couldn't.

* * *

_

And after that, Juushirou had obligingly worn it – as a kimono, not a cape. It had been a little too big and a little too ornate, perhaps, to suit him completely. But the way he carried himself made up for it, and his white hair balanced out the color scheme. Also, whenever they walked down the street, Juushirou would unfailingly get mistaken for a woman. And that, in itself, had been worth the laughs.

A chill swept the memories from Shunsui's mind, waking him to a darkening sky. The sake dishes cast their own small, darker, shadows, within his, onto the picnic blanket. They would lengthen soon, until they rested on the coffin; Shunsui could even see the streetlamps lighting up around the garden, softly glowing blurs of yellow-orange against the surrounding gray and overhead pink.

"I'll come again, Juu," he said, between finishing his sake and getting up to place the other dish on top of the granite. "In the meantime, a little drink won't kill you."

He could just imagine Juushirou's half-exasperated-half-amused gaze._ Ha ha. Very funny, Shun._ The sake bottle – contents only kept from freezing by the repeated pouring and swirling – along with the remaining dish and the blanket were soon back in the bag, and the bag was now replaced on his back, over kimono and yukata, damping the ripples in the fabric the evening breeze had been trying to create.

"But I'll bring green tea, next time; you like green tea better, don't you?"

A last caress along the stone, and then it would've started to sound like he was talking to himself, so he left, down the street to the café where Coyote was waiting. There was a smile on his face, sort-of-happy and sort-of-sad; the evening-going-on-night and the incandescent light brought to mind the first night he'd introduced lover to queen and vice versa, and he and Juushirou had walked down the street just like this, just like this, and –

* * *

"_You're sure you'll be alright?"_

_The white-haired man – frail as he was, no matter how well he hid it – nodded _yes_ and they continued on their way from their shared apartment to Katen Kyoukotsu. It wasn't too far off; they walked in the silvery moonlight that melded with the gold-orange lamplight, silent and just enjoying each other's company. The bartender was glad Juushirou had decided to wear modern clothes for once – it was a little too formal, but hey – it looked great on the man. (When did his Juu _not_ look great?)_

_He wore a maroon long-sleeve, the same color as Shunsui's cravat; blazer, bottoms and shoes were all white in contrast. Already an appetizing picture, but Shunsui couldn't resist undoing the top buttons of the shirt, and removing the man's hair-tie. Except for when he was asleep, Juushirou always tied his hair into a simple ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way of his flowers, but he could do without it for _one _night._

_Later, Juushirou sat at the counter, a glass of white wine – that Shunsui had poured him without asking, then playfully insisted he take – in hand. He sipped absently, watching his lover work.

* * *

_

Ah. Shunsui really _did_ and _would_ miss him. He would never wake up to that delicate body – never take a nap in the security of his tranquil aura, as he painstakingly assembled his plants – never watch as Juushirou slowly accustomed himself to night instead of day. Never again. There was comfort in visiting his grave, though. He would make it a point to come by more often. For now, Coyote was waiting in the café down the road.

It was dark out, with Coyote sitting at an outdoor table under an umbrella of an unidentifiable shade, tinted the gray-black of night. Shunsui slid into a seat opposite him, but the other didn't stir. He watched his coffee – cold – eyes not even glancing up; yet he was welcoming his Primera back. Shunsui absently pulled the coffee to himself and took a sip, blanched. He got up, and would've ordered another coffee at the counter – something nice and _warm_ –

"Hey, since you're doing your rounds an all. I'm pretty sure Katen misses you."

"Why is it _you're_ the one always making the invitations?"

Coyote shrugged and got up as well.

_Let's go._

"We'll have to change first, though."

"Yeah."

* * *

It felt like coming back home, stepping through the heavy doors and into the dark-light of the bar. He headed automatically for the counter, Coyote a few steps behind him. Both paused, because things were reversed now, or were they? Shunsui nearly backed away from the swing door at the end of the counter, but when the other man slid onto one of the stools, it was settled. Silently, just like – this? – _that_.

Coyote was wearing that navy hooded jacket – hood down – over that casual white button-up shirt; long black pants and black Venetian loafers of the same color, but polished to a shine. His hair was still brown, his eyes were still blue-steel. They would never change, and Shunsui was quite happy for it; after all, Coyote _was_ quite, quite handsome.

Under the dim incandescence of Katen's lights, the man smiled.

"Yamazaki eighteen-year whisky mizuwari, please. On the rocks."

* * *

Author's Note:  
And so this is done! Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed~ I'm planning on a few bonus chapters, so review with suggestions~


	6. Bonus: Shower

**Iro Oni**

_Bonus Chapter: Shower_

By LoveAnimeForever

* * *

Shunsui breathed out as he and Coyote stepped through the apartment door. It was something of relief, as well as of release; yet not. Tension – just enough to make his heart rate quicken, but low enough to remain pleasant. The door closed behind him, and then they were heading to the bedroom… No, _through _it, to the adjacent bathroom. He stopped at the doorframe, leaning against it, a wolfish grin forming on his lips. (No matter that "wolfish" belonged to his lover.)

Coyote caught the playful aura behind him and smirked. "Shower?"

The other man licked his lips. He pushed off the doorframe, moving the press flush against the thinner man and encircling the slim waist in his arms.

There was a full-length mirror in Coyote's bathroom, and Shunsui had never been able to fathom why such a man – sexy almost _because_ he didn't care for appearances – would have one at all. Coyote, himself, had brushed it off as pre-installed by the previous owner of the apartment. But right now, resting his chin against the lithe shoulders and gazing at their reflections – imagining what it would look like _without_ the bartender uniforms…

"And you wondered why I had this," Coyote murmured, a flash of his canines behind his lips.

Shunsui replied with his hands, sliding his fingers up along the black of Coyote's long-sleeved cuff shirt, and then down again, undoing the buttons before pushing the fabric away. The man shifted, and the shirt fell to the floor, baring his chest.

Hypnotic. Their eyes met in the mirror, and they simply stood there, watching each other as Shunsui's hands continued to play across the skin. Time was ticking, but this slowness was so rare, like the amber of brandy; they _had_ to stop for it. It _made_ them stop for it.

Coyote covered Shunsui's wandering hands with his own, brought one to his cheek. He nuzzled it gently, released it – hand dropping to rest on the arm – and tilted his head to the side to give the caressing hand easier access to his neck. The lids to his eyes were lowered, the grey behind them glazed in lust; he felt, rather than saw, Shunsui put his lips to his pulse, accompanied by the sinful heat of his tongue. A hiss of pleasure slid past his lips as his eyes fluttered open, and still the mercury reflection in the mirror was there to greet him.

"Primera…"

He turned within those arms to face the broader chest behind him, submitting himself all too easily to his lover's ministrations. Shunsui threaded one hand through Coyote's hair and tugged lightly, dipped his head to attack the vulnerable hollow of the revealed neck. He slid his other hand over the shoulder, along the back, while continuing the nipping – licking – sucking – along the skin. Coyote slipped his hands between them to begin their sluggish counterattack on Shunsui's vest and shirt.

Twice Shunsui had to release the body in his arms to allow his clothes to fall, and twice his eyes left the visual in the mirror. Smooth and slender, almost skinny; but whenever his hands dragged a little harder – blunt nails raking futile against that skin – he was reminded of the lean muscle beneath. He tilted Coyote's chin up for a kiss, surprising himself with how gentle it was – simmering lust, trickling between their melded lips and washing through their veins. There was simply no _need_ to rush – none that they could remember, anyway – just the need to savour like they'd never done before. It was dizzying.

Now Coyote was making quick work of his belt and pants; Shunsui returned the favour, and both were standing nude before the mirror. Shunsui shifted behind his lover again, arms around the sleek waist, eyes raking along their reflection.

"Shower," he breathed at last, assenting to the other man's earlier proposal.

* * *

Hot water, nearly enough to scald, was the obvious choice. It pounded down their backs, slid off their skin – a hundred extra hands burning along their spines. But it was nothing to the heat between them, of skin against skin, grinding and arching against each other. Their lips melded and meshed, pulling apart with strings of saliva between them for air before fusing again.

_Slow, so slow so-_

"Delicious."

Shunsui's whisper, although murmured against his lover's ear, was nearly drowned out by the water. He reached around Coyote for the shower knob and turned it, lessening the torrent on their backs. Then, he found the shampoo and proceeded to lather it into his lover's hair, massaging the scalp under the surprisingly smooth strands. Coyote groaned in pleasure as the skilled fingers toyed with his hair. His hands scrambled for purchase against Shunsui's slick chest, finally finding it in digging his nails into the man's shoulders. He was rewarded with the heavier body cornering him against the tiled wall that was warmed by the steam from the water – not at all unpleasant.

A quiet grunt from the slight impact; heavy breaths over the patter of water. Coyote could feel their erections against each other; the friction shot straight to his already clouded mind. He could _also_ feel his knees buckling, as Shunsui smoothed his hair back and the soap-covered hands wandered downward. One hand braced against his lover's chest, he made to get the shampoo as well, but found it placed in his hand, accompanied by another kiss to his lips. Shifting his weight back onto his own two feet, unsteady as they might be, Coyote let his hands find their way to the back of Shunsui's head, and worked the bubbles into the soaked hair.

All the while, the water consumed the foam almost as soon as it was created and washed it away, flecks of white draining past the tiled floor.

"Primera-"

_Always Primera_, Coyote though blearily, as Shunsui ducked in the gentle spray and restarted his attack on his neck. Like how Shunsui never used his first name when they were like this…

He felt the larger man's hands – slick from shower gel – roam across his body, massaging down his back, then dancing over his chest. Sometimes even those blunt nails were pressed hard enough into his skin to leave marks; sometimes they gripped tight enough to bruise. But only when Coyote made that quietly demanding sound at the back of his throat, that _sexy_ sound that meant Shunsui was being too gentle. A reminder that Coyote's hair was brown, not white… That he wasn't breakable.

But from the noises from that throat, Shunsui figured his lover didn't mind being treated tenderly every once in a while. He dropped to his knees, intentionally ignoring his lover's straining member. More soap, and then he ran his hands firmly up Coyote's calf, knee, inner thigh…

Coyote moaned in need, willing his lover to continue, but Shunsui simply slipped his hands across that tight ass and worked his way down the other leg. The man barely managed to keep from touching himself; instead, he clawed desperately at the wall, trying to release the tension in his abdomen in other ways... When Shunsui got back up, smirk on his lips, he was rewarded with the sight of his lover nearly spread eagle against the wall, eyes glazed with lust, want in every breath that passed the swollen lips.

An unintelligibly hoarse whisper, the voice's owner fixed in his position by Shunsui's burning gaze. _Primera. Primera, Primera._

_Please._

Shunsui shook his head playfully, but pressed himself close against the lithe body anyway. He ground down, and there was the wonderful friction again – his own need was killing him, but _god_ if seeing Coyote reduced to this wasn't one of the most seductive (and hence worth it) things he'd ever seen.

The other man shifted reluctantly, slipping out from between Shunsui's arms, to soap his back none-too-gently. He could still feel the weakness in his limbs, the almost painful need for his lover to take him. But all Shunsui was willing to do now was hold him, hands teasing; and the water continued pouring, a warm river washing whatever soap had been applied within moments.

Done with the soap, Coyote returned to stand from his knees to let Shunsui claim his lips once more. Mindless. They'd delayed as long as either could take it, and it had been amazing, but playtime was over.

* * *

Or rather, just beginning. Shunsui turned Coyote to face away from him, and the man compliantly braced himself against the wall, using his forearms to support his weight. Still the water lightly hit his skin, though most of it was blocked out by Shunsui's form hovering over him. Teeth and tongue found his pulse again, and the fingers danced along his abdomen, brushing his erection oh-so-fleetingly. He bucked into the hand, but Shunsui withdrew, leaving Coyote a shivering mass against the wall.

Shunsui pressed a finger to his lover's entrance, sliding it into the heat behind the tight ring of muscle with the water as lubricant. Coyote hissed faintly. The gentleness was disorienting. His lover chuckled, voice low, and slid another finger in, locking his teeth and lips on whatever skin he could reach to distract his lover. He scissored the digits, relishing the needy whimpers – that he knew were half-caused by the pain radiating from the reddening, some bleeding, marks now scattered across the thin shoulders… A third finger, a little shifting; a fierce gasp, bordering on a whine, shot from Coyote's lips as Shunsui brushed the tips of his fingers against that _spot_-

"Stop…" Coyote gasped, gulping in the steam-saturated air, as well as a bit of the burning water, "Primera…"

It was a plea. Shunsui echoed it playfully, and did so, though he disliked the idea himself. Also, he knew –

"You know me… ah… better than that…"

The breathy reply was accompanied by a soft growl. It was an awkward angle for a kiss, but Shunsui managed it, hands twisting about his lover to fuse their lips again. Water trickled past their closed eyes, into the imperfect seal between their mouths. They eventually broke for air.

Coyote's face fell slightly – as much as it could in the haze of pleasure – at the sight of the smirk on his lover's lips.

_Oh. No. No. _"Don't make me _beg_, Primera…"

Really, Shunsui would've liked to. And he could sense that his partner could take just _that_ bit more, but his voice cracked – even if only a little – and all self-control on either side was washed down the drain with the water.

* * *

Coyote hissed at his lover's sudden thrust, pain shooting up his spine despite the preparation. It was nothing compared to the way Shunsui usually took him, but after the gentle handling, it went straight past _everything_, to his pounding head and neglected cock.

"_God_…"

Steadying breaths. They were finally done with the torturous foreplay; there was no need for _"more"_, only the actual thrusts, the force against Coyote's back, and the water against their skin that would soon be completely forgotten. Coyote moved with his lover, faster, fiercer, his hands slipping and sliding, nails clawing for a stable grip while his mind was black-white with pleasure. Thankfully, Shunsui circled a hand around his waist, cruelly close to his member, and added his other hand to their support against the wall. He sped up his thrusts, and Coyote hooked an arm around his neck for balance.

"So tight, Starrk…"

Shunsui purred drunken nonsense to his lover between heavy breaths, pressing his lips to the side of Coyote's face and shoulder. Nipping, sucking, again, until Coyote turned to touch their lips together as best he could, even more difficult like this, with their minds in frenzy than it was earlier. Filthy words filled the spaces between the sloppy kisses, making the heat somehow all the more heady and dizzying.

Broad hands finally drifted to Coyote's cock, fingers wrapping around the hard length and pumping in time to the thrusts. The sounds spilling from his lips became even messier, stumbling over each other in their fight to escape the unbearable heat at his core. _Harder, faster. Primera, my Primera- Fuck, Primera- there, there-_

All too soon, whatever strands of coherency left them, left them with a pace too fast for either to hold out long under. Coyote was the first to come, arching desperately into his lover's hand, ecstasy on his lips. Stars burnt sunspots in his vision, blanking out the already swimming picture of the walls that danced before his eyes. The added contractions around his own member sent Shunsui quickly after, guttural groan vibrating in his throat against his partner's shoulder. He gripped that warm, warm body tighter against himself, riding the last of his peak.

* * *

Coyote wanted to just slump there, let the water continue to rinse his skin, with Shunsui's weight comfortably half beside and half against him. And for a moment, they did. But his lover soon scooped him into his arms and helped him to stand before the mirror again. A towel was suddenly slung around his shoulders, and there was Shunsui also drying himself up.

He followed suit. They didn't bother with clothes, and almost immediately after their hair had been toweled sufficiently, the pair slid under the silk covers of Coyote's bed. Shunsui found himself instinctively embracing the smaller man against his chest. They held the silence for a short while, and then Coyote noticed the clock. He sighed.

"Primera-" _you should go._

"I should, shouldn't I?"

Shunsui glanced up as well, but tightened his grip around his lover despite his words. For the first time since the whole _mess _had started, the magnetism between them threatened to consume the loyalty and _love_ he had for Juushirou. And yet, _this_ wasn't just something he could walk away from anymore. His lover looked up at him, eyes serene, understanding.

Love. A complex thing he would rather have done without. Coyote figured he should've seen this coming, really. There had been a reason their sex was always so rough, after all. When it was slow, when it began to _feel _like more than just sex, then it would… _We were both idiots._ He could sense the thoughts swirling in his partner's head; worse, the same thoughts were slowly forming in his own head.

"Stay," he murmured finally.

"You'll wake me up?"

Coyote pressed a kiss to his lover's lips – yes – then curled closer against his chest. _Sleep. In the morning, everything will be normal again. _


End file.
